On the Eighth Day of Christmas, my true love gave to me

Seven,


Six

Five

Four,

Three,

Two,

and a.

p.s. Happy New Year to my readers, old and new. More of you show up every day, which just goes to show you that the Republicans are right about one thing; everything that happens can be viewed as a business opportunity. Television writers go on strike, and my blog numbers go up. Coincidence? I think not.

I promise I'll have something interesting to say any day now, once I finish entertaining people, but honestly ... since Christmas I've had two days where I haven't been hosting some gathering or other. This Martha Stewart routine is fun, but fattening ... and I'd like to get back to normal soon.

Tomorrow is New Year's Lunch with my brother and his family. We'll have a Yankee version of Hopping John, sauteed greens, and fried chicken. A lot of food will be eaten, booze will be drunk, jokes will be told, and then I hope everyone will go away and leave me in peace so that I can commune with the Internet in my usual anti-social maladjusted fashion. Because this real-life, in-your-face, "We Are Family" stuff is kind of overwhelming. I need some quality time with my laptop.

And now, a sorbet

Because all the other kids are posting best-of 2007 entries, I will do the same.

Naturally, I'm not egotistical enough to judge the so-called "quality" of my posts myself. So I went with the ones that got the most comments.

In January, 2007, I contemplated arson.

In February, I outed myself as a would-be ass-whupper of vegan, Generation-Z, animal-rights protesters, except where are those wimps when it's cold out? Nowhere to be found.

March found me giving the internet the virtual finger by declaring my hatred for baby lettuce, lattes, and chatty hair stylists, wondering why nobody likes me, saying I'll go eat worms, and mentioning--just in passing, mind you--that my blog numbers are way down. Gee, I wonder why?

In April, I found myself making fun of hippy-ish sentiments AGAIN, this time in the form of bumper stickers that annoy the crap out of me.

In May, I revealed myself as an anti-foot-fetishist.

In June, I decided to tell people that I am my husband's trophy wife. (And as long as he's not around, looking cute and adorable and much younger than I am, they'll have to believe me.)

In July, me and a lot of other female bloggers congregated on Navy Pier for BlogHer07, and when I mentioned that the panels sucked? One of the organizers blessed my blog with a comment.

In August, I was sincere.

I made up for it in September, when I live-blogged Britney Spear's "comeback" performance at the MTV Video Awards, thus insuring that my sarcastic remarks made it onto the internet before Perez Hilton knew what was happening.

Because of this, in October, I almost lost custody of my laptop.

In November, I partook in the madness that is NaBloPoMo. My theme for the month was weight loss, and I actually posted my weight, which left my readers riveted, if somewhat perturbed by the mental image I wouldn't stop conjuring up.

In December we moved back into our house after a three month period of kitchen-and-bathroom remodeling. I also performed very much music, both pop and Classical, to great acclaim. But did the Internet care? No, it did not. What the Internet liked was the Uncredited Google Images meme thingie.

And that explains why the internet has been stuck with enjoying Uncredited Google Images for what feels like weeks, but in fact, has only been seven days (of Christmas).

On the seventh day of Blogmas, my true love gave to me

Six

Five

Four,

Three,

Two,

and a.

On the sixth day of Blogmas, my true love gave to me

Five

Four,

Three,

Two,

and a.

p.s. Woot! The Patriots finished a perfect 16-0 season! OK, I'm not a football fan. Never have been. Still ... we so totally rock! And New York can kiss my Bostonian ass. FTR, so can each and every member of the Miami Dolphins.

On the fifth day of Blogmas,my true love gave to me

Four,

Three,

Two,

and a.

On the fourth day of Blogmas, my true love gave to me

Three

Two

and a

On the third day of Blogmas, my true love gave to me

Two

and a

On the second day of Blogmas, my true love gave to me

and a

On the first day of Blogmas, my true love gave to me

a



in a

Season's Greetings

"It is finished."

That's what I said to myself this morning at 8:15, after the last present was unwrapped.

So I'm back in bed, where I belong. Because last night I turned off the light at 3:30.

THREE FUCKING THIRTY ACK EMMA, people.

But I figured out something, and in the spirit of Christmas, I'm giving it out freely.

This is it:

All the people who like to get all pissed off and huffy about the secularization and increasing commercialization of Christmas need to join a choir, preferably a cathedral choir. And to make it perfect, those people should live in a suburb outside of the city in which the cathedral is located.

Because, honestly, when you spend five hours in church on the last Sunday in Advent, and then the very next day, which is Christmas Eve, get to church at 7:00 p.m. and leave at 1:00--having sat through two masses complete with two different and lengthy sermons, and sung a midnight mass setting by Charpentier, motets by Byrd and Palestrina, anthems by Rutter, carol arrangements by David Willcocks complete with his trademark soaring soprano descants, when the strings and recorders have accompanied the hymns, when there have been carols by candlelight and incense swung all over the place, and then have to drive for 45 minutes to get home, and then stuff stockings?

You find that you don't resent the secular aspects of Christmas at all. Personally, after sitting through two literal Christ-masses, I find the brightly lit store fronts, the decorated houses, the Christmas trees, the mistletoe and holly, the roast beef and plum pudding, the bulging stockings, the litter of wrapping paper and ribbon and candy canes and general ho-ho-ho-iness of it all pretty damned wonderful.

In fact, want to have a winter solstice celebration instead? Or do Festivus? Fine! Great! Enjoy.

There's definitely something to be said for the secular. I mean, for one thing, if something strikes me as funny, now that I'm in my house, I get to laugh. This is frowned upon in church.*

So having spent 12 of the past 48 hours in church, being stuffed to the gills with holiness, I will now embark upon a couple of days of pagan celebrations.

Happy Holidays, everyone!

* For example, last night at Midnight Mass, the second one of the evening, the choir was asked to stay in the gallery and not file out, kneel at the altar, receive the elements, and file back. I guess they were trying to be efficient. We were told a couple of priests would bring the elements to us. So I sat there waiting, but when the priests came up with the elements, I was hemmed in by the string players. The priests didn't see me trying to get up, so they left without giving me communion. I turned around to the tenors behind me and said "Oh, FINE. Now I'll go to hell when I die." And one of the tenors said "Poppy--you don't get to have seconds of Jesus."

FedEx is my new boyfriend.

Why?

Because he just showed up with this:

A red iPod Nano. Which is my daughter's Christmas present. Let me remind you, in case you haven't been keeping score: Christmas is tomorrow.

Now, ordinarily, I don't panic when a Christmas present shows up late. My daughter's birthday is in January, so anything that shows up late can transmagicallymogrify into a birthday present.
Same present, different wrapping paper. Bingo!

I believe the Catholics call this "transubstantiation."

So, anyway, as I was saying before I wandered into a theological digression, ordinarily I wouldn't mind if changing the iPod into a birthday present. Except for one thing. In a fit of mushiness, I had opted to have the iPod engraved with a Merry Christmas message. And this would look extremely lame on a birthday gift that got handed over in January.

So when the truck pulled up to deliver the iPod, I wanted to kiss the driver. But I restrained myself.

I did treat him to the sight of all 175 pounds of me magnificently arrayed in mis-matched pink pajamas, though. For which I'm sure he is very grateful.

This is going around the internet. So I regifted it.

Christmas Carols for the Psychologically Challenged

1) Schizophrenia - "Do You Hear What I Hear?"

2) Amnesia - "I Don't Know if I'll be Home for Christmas"

3) Narcisscism - "Hark the Herald Angels Sing About Me"

4) Mania - "Deck the Halls and Walls and House and Lawn and Streets and Stores and Office and Town and Cars and Buses and Trucks and Trees and Fire Hydrants and ..."

5) Multiple Personality Disorder -"We Three Queens Disoriented Are"

6) Paranoia - "Santa Claus is Coming to Get Me"

7) Borderline Personality Disorder - "Thoughts of Roasting on an Open Fire"

8) Full Personality Disorder - "You'd Better Watch Out, I'm Gonna Cry, and I'm Gonna Pout, Maybe I'll Tell You Why"

9) Obsessive Compsulsive Disorder - "Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells"

10) Agoraphobia - "I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day but Wouldn't Leave My House."

11) Senile Dementia - "Walking in a Winter Wonderland Miles From My House Wearing Only a Robe and Slippers"

12) Oppositional Defiant Disorder -"I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus So I Burned Down the House"

13) Social Anxiety Disorder - "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas While I Sit Here and Hyperventilate"

14) Attention Deficit Disorder - "We Wish You ... Hey Look!! It's Snowing!!!"

Boomama's Christmas Tour of Homes

As far as I'm concerned, Christmas isn't about presents. It's not about family. It's not about food. It's not even about the Baby Jebus.

Christmas is about THE DECORATIONS.

And as it turns out, a blogger named Boomama knows lots of other similarly-decoration-obsessed bloggers.



Click on that button and see lots and lots and lots of other beautifully-decorated homes. I am 469th out of 469. So there's lots to see.

Or hang around here and see what I did.

So here are some pictures.

When you walk in, the first thing you see is the mistletoe. If you look up, that is.


The living room, looking into the dining room. Tree is up. Roses on the coffee table. Pinocchios on the CD shelf. Musical bears on the little sideboard. Ornaments on the dining room chandelier.

The mantel with flower arrangements, some nutcrackers, and a couple of tiny nativity scenes. And stockings. And a fire.



Here's a blurry shot of the tree. It's a tall, skinny artificial tree--I don't love it, but we have allergies to deal with, and it fits the space.


Out of focus artistic photograph of the Disney Toon Town houses, all lit up for Christmas.



A close up of the tree. Sock monkey ornament. Another miniature Pinocchio. A Pokemon ball made by my son. Garlands.



Establishing shot of the dining room showing red candles and lots of flowers, also some Christmas cards on the Victorian desk.


A close-up of the centerpiece on the dining room table.

A close up of one of the radiator covers with cyclamen. And weird battery-powered window candle all fuzzy and out of focus.

The corner cupboard gets a wreath, too.

Because I'm all kinds of classy, I'll post a lovely holiday video.

On the first day of Christmas break, my true love gave to me

a mug of Splenda-sweetened milky tea.

Ah ... a morning where I don't have to get up. Or get my children up.

But guess what? I figured out that my children aren't freaks of nature. They're crazy because I'm crazy. It always drives me nuts that they oversleep on school days, but wake up at the crack of dawn on the weekend.

Guess who woke up at 6:00 this morning?

OK ... yesterday. And what I did and didn't do:


1. Order Amazon gift cards for all my kids' teachers.
2. Order Amazon gift cards for my relatives.
3. Order an Ikea gift card for my sister-in-law.
4. Order Christmas flowers for my mother and sister.
5. Order stocking stuffers for my kids.
6. Order a surprise for a friend who reads this blog, so shhhhhhh!
7. Go out and buy new bathrobes for everyone. One of them will be my husband's birthday present. Which was Wednesday.
8. Go out and buy my husband a GPS system for his birthday. Again, two days ago.
9. Make sure we have all the ingredients for Friday pizza night.
10. Send out some Christmas cards.
11. Mail a package to my brother-in-law.
12. Make my grocery list, and as I'm out and about, pick up items from it.
13. Do something about my dining room, which looks drab and colorless now that I've removed all the shit that doesn't belong there.
14. BUY BATTERIES because God knows the window candles won't last the season without reinforcements.
15. Write thank-you notes to people who have given me stuff or been amazingly kind.

This is pretty good progress, considering. A few spanners fell into the works as the day progressed. My shopping got a bit cramped when I received a phone call informing me that my credit card had been declined. That was a bit of a freak out, and progress was derailed until I discovered the reason. It wasn't the usual reason, because I wasn't using my card. When it's my card, I have to think very hard indeed--until my brains rattle around in my head--to remember if perhaps, but some amazing oversight, I had forgotten to pay the bill! For a couple of months. Again.

But this was a card my husband is in charge of, and he not only pays his bills on time, he likes to leave wide, generous, plush borders of available credit on his cards. Kind of like the matting in a print framed in the eighties.

Therefore, I suspected internet fraud of something just as bad.

Turns out the bitch forget to get the bank's safety code. So that was OK.

Still, bathrobes and GPS systems were not bought, because who needs the humiliation of being told her credit was declined? Not I.

But! I sent out 50 Christmas cards yesterday. And will send some more out today. And when That Stud Muffin I Married returns witih the concert tickets he left in Chicago* I'll be able to hit the mall and deal with the whole bathrobe situation.

We'll pick up the birthday cake I ordered for today on our way to the concert. And finally have Wednesday night's birthday cake and Friday night's pizza night tonight.

* See? He's not perfect, either.

It's Friday. I should be on the way to the gym.

I promised pal Fiddledeedee that I'd go.

But I think it's about time I really addressed this Christmas situation.

I mean, all the rest of you are busy, busy, busy. Joke's even baking cookies, and Joke, like most good cooks, hates to bake. Badger's flashing the neighbors. And blackbird is putting us all to shame.

I could spend all day reading people's blogs and feeling inadequate. But FINE, people. I get the hint. So today I'm going to:

1. Order Amazon gift cards for all my kids' teachers.
2. Order Amazon gift cards for my relatives.
3. Order an Ikea gift card for my sister-in-law.
4. Order Christmas flowers for my mother and sister.
5. Order stocking stuffers for my kids.
6. Order a surprise for a friend who reads this blog, so shhhhhhh!
7. Go out and buy new bathrobes for everyone. One of them will be my husband's birthday present. Which was Wednesday.
8. Go out and buy my husband a GPS system for his birthday. Again, two days ago.
9. Make sure we have all the ingredients for Friday pizza night.
10. Send out some Christmas cards.
11. Mail a package to my brother-in-law.
12. Make my grocery list, and as I'm out and about, pick up items from it.
13. Do something about my dining room, which looks drab and colorless now that I've removed all the shit that doesn't belong there.
14. BUY BATTERIES because God knows the window candles won't last the season without reinforcements.
15. Write thank-you notes to people who have given me stuff or been amazingly kind.

On Saturday I will:

1. Send out more Christmas cards.
2. Bake cookies for Santa, and not incidentally, my children.

On Sunday I will:

1. Go to church and choir rehearsal.

On Monday I will:

1. Go to church, singing at the 8:00 p.m. and 11:30 p.m. services.

On Tuesday, I will:

1. Fall into bed about 2:00 a.m.

Weigh in Wednesday: 175

Today I pulled myself up by my (big, fat) bootstraps and went to a Weight Watchers meeting. It was my first since November 28th, when I discovered I had gained weight at Thanksgiving. "What a surprise!" I murmured to myself, "usually sitting around on my butt eating highly caloric food has no effect whatsoever on my weight. I'd better watch what I eat--and exercise more. Yeah, that's the ticket."

Then the madness that is part-time Christmas singing kicked in.

Accordingly, the next Wednesday, I had a lunchtime singing engagement and couldn't make my meeting.

The Wednesday after that, it was my birthday. I debated going to my meeting, but decided that the chances were extremely slim (hee!) that anyone was going to give me any cake, so I said the hell with it and stayed home. So as not to be a complete slacker, I weighed myself on my bathroom scale. I had no idea how accurate my scale is, and was therefore delighted to discover that by its very low standards of accuracy, I had lost six pounds. My jeans knew that this was obviously a big lie, bu I played along. I didn't want to injure my scale's self-esteem. And anyway, happy birthday to me, right?

This brings us up to today. I bit the bullet, went to my meeting, and got weighed. I weighed 175, which is 1.4 pounds less than the Wednesday after Thanksgiving, and is actually pretty good, considering that for weeks now, I haven't been tracking my points or working out or doing much of anything except charging around singing Christmas music--at least, when I'm not busy putting our lives back together in our new, post-renovation house.

Or getting ready for Christmas. Which--OK--all I've done is trim the tree and get cards, but still.

But anyway, there you have it. I'm still fat, but not as whale-like as I was in August, when this adventure began.

And so begins the hilarious adventure of a flutter-brained vixen named Poppy Buxom

Did you know that Sunday was Rose Sunday, i.e., the Sunday you light the pink candle in your advent wreath? (Not that I lit mine, because I can't find it. I grabbed this picture from the Internet. It was from the website of The Sisters of St. Joseph of Toronto. Yes, that's the kind of scumbag I am. I steal Internet images--from nuns.)

Anyway, Rose Sunday. It's the week we all lighten up. We realize we don't have to exist in a purple Advent gloom for ever. We see the light at the end of the tunnel. We realize that Christmas is coming.

So there I was, at church.

I was wearing a red wool suit not because I feel the need to dress nicely to sing in a choir, because I don't. After all, my clothes are going to be covered in a robe and surplice. The only thing that will show are my feet, and if I wear black shoes, I'm good.

No, I dressed nicely because I can't find most of my clothes. Many of the woolen ones are still stashed deep in closets, swathed in dry cleaner bags, or reek of mothballs. On top of that, a lot of the ones I can find are too big. Looking even halfway decent involves a lot of digging around and trying on. I settled on a red wool boucle Tahari suit. The fit wasn't great--both jacket and skirt were a bit loose--but I thought it passed muster. And it didn't reek of mothballs.

When I got to church, I realized I was going to broil under my choir robe and surplice. Broil. I decided to remove the suit jacket. And so I went to the tinkletorium, went wee-wee, removed my jacket, and put on my choir robe and surplice. And everything went well! The readings were about John the Baptist, the choir sang a Palestrina motet incredibly well, we sang two different versions of Veni, veni Emmanuel--even the sermon was interesting.

And! Wonder of wonders, when it came time to take my choir robe off, I managed to remember that underneath it, I was stripped down to my bra. And therefore, I hid myself in the bathroom to take my choir robe off and put my suit jacket back on. I sauntered out of the changing room feeling very smug.

Within seconds, one of the sopranos rushed over and was standing behind me, tugging at my skirt. And it wouldn't come down. My skirt was all bunched up, and it was stuck that way.

I don't need to go into too much detail about how embarrassing this was. I'll just reiterate what you already know--that pantyhose are evil. And even more evil than usual when you accidentally tuck the lining of your skirt into them, thus forcing the skirt fabric to bunch up.

And most evil of all when you decide to do the Underalls option. Yep--the Commando chorister.

Boy, are my cheeks red.

Just one of the many things (New England heritage, incredible egotism, and an irrational love of turtlenecks) Kate Hepburn and I have in common:

Halp

A dear, dear, dear friend of mine has mentioned in her recent emails that my blog is taking a really long time to load. Like 20 minutes. And this is with a fast connection.

The first time she mentioned it, I got rid of a few widgets in my sidebar. The second time, I pruned my sidebar ruthlessly. It's a haiku of its former self.

Well, I've run out of ideas, so I turn to you, Internet. Could you please tell me:

1. Does my blog tend to load slowly?
2. If so, do you think it's all the pictures? Because I can upload fewer, or upload less-detailed pictures.
3. If so, and it's not the pictures, is there a fix that any moron, i.e., me, can manage?

Images of Me

The uncredited Google images meme. Taken from daysgoby.

Age at my next birthday:


Place I'd like to travel:

Place I've been:

Favorite food:


Place I was born:

Place I live:

Name of past pet:

Best friend's nickname:


My first name:

(A/K/A)


First job:

This is how lame I am.

You're all decorating your houses, planning parties, wrapping gifts.

Me?

I just discovered a Halloween picture. So voila:



Luigi (from Luigi's Haunted Mansion video game) and Devil Girl.

Look for Christmas pictures in time for Easter.

The Christmas Bell Curve

If being the Almighty Perfect Christmas-Celebrating Housewife were a race, my car would be a non-starter.

No matter how unorganized and frantic you feel, Internet, without even trying to, I am making you look really good.

Let's break it down into its constituent parts, shall we?

1. Cookies. You all already know how I feel about them. Not going to happen.

2. Cards. Um. Well, I just got a whole shitload of them from Snapfish or DiginternetCards or some such site. So there is a slight chance that some of my friends will get one. Which is good, because in an insane excess of wishful thinking, I ordered 100 of the fucking things.

Of course, the whole thing will depend on whether I manage to get my ass to the post office for Christmas stamps. Which seems questionable at this point.

3. Christmas shopping. I have done zero. Zilch. Nada. If it weren't for my husband, my children would think Santa hates them.

4. Christmas tree. OK, it's up, and since the lights are built in, it's lit. However, there are only three ornaments on it.

5. Outdoor lights. Nope.

6. Wreaths. I have three. I've had them for a couple of weeks. One is up and has the bow attached. One is up and doesn't have a bow yet. One is sitting on the back porch next to the back door, because there isn't a nail to hang it from. Yes, I actually am that lame.

7. Creche. Won't go up this year. I've been moving furniture around and I can't figure out where to put it.

8. Disney houses. Yes, I feel into the cute little Christmas house collectible trap. About half of the houses are up. And let me tell you, I'm feeling very proud of myself.

9. Special Christmas musical performances. As of tonight, the kids are done--they did great, thanks for asking. I'm about two-thirds done. I'm singing tomorrow (easy pop stuff) and Saturday (Bach's Magnificat) and heilige Schweitz. I don't know the Bach at all. I'd totally panic about that, but I don't have time.

10. Good will to men. We're sorry, but that item is on backorder.

Ding Dong Meme-ily on High

A meme. From Joke.

1. Wrapping paper or gift bags?
Wrapping paper.

2. Real tree or artificial?
Artificial. One of my kids' regular babysitters was allergic to evergreen, so I bought a fake. I have to say, there's something very anti-climatic about putting up a fake tree. Without needing to wonder whether it will look good, whether it's pretty enough, or too tall, or will it dry out, and is my house going to burn down--well, where's the excitement?

3. When do you put up the tree?
Sometime around my birthday, which is today.

4. When do you take the tree down?
After the twelfth day of Christmas, and not a moment earlier. I like to amortize the labor of putting it up.

5. Do you like eggnog?
It's ... OK. Unless my mother made it, because then it tastes pretty much like bourbon and heavy cream--then she does this thing where she separates the eggs, beats the whites until they have soft peaks and lay the whites on top of the punch bowl so there's this ... raw egg fluff on it. This is very traditional and Virginian and everything, but it's completely gross. Oh, and that stuff in the cartons at the grocery store is disgusting. But I sort of like real eggnog made by people who make it brandy or rum. Except it's not worth the calories, so I don't bother with it.

6. Favorite gift received as a child?
A 16" Madame Alexander "Elise" doll from my grandmother that looked like this.

7. Do you have a creche?
Yes. I had my grandmother's bisque one from Germany, and then it was stolen from the storage space of a condo I lived in in Brighton, MA. (I'll bet the thieves were surprised, and I hope, a little ASHAMED OF THEMSELVES when they discovered the BABY JESUS in the box.) I searched on eBay and eventually found the same. exact. set. Except the donkey's leg hadn't broken off and then glued back on backwards. So you see? It all ended happily. So there, asshole creche-stealing iconoclastic thieving shitheads.

8. Hardest person to buy for?
Me. I hate everything. Especially surprises. This year I asked for socks. Black or brown. See--I'm not fussy. But will I get them? Probably not.

9. Easiest person to buy for?
My husband. Isn't it ironic? And unfair? He loves gadgets. (I hate them.) This year I'm getting him a GPS system. He'll love it. (I'd hate it.)

10. Worst Christmas gift you ever received?
A Grateful Dead clock from my older brother. I do not now--nor have I ever--liked the Dead. In fact, it wouldn't be too hyperbolic to state that I hate them.

11. Mail or email Christmas cards?
Mail. When I can be bothered.

12. Favorite Christmas Movie?
Remember the Night, Preston Sturges, 1940, starring Barbara Stanwyck and Fred MacMurray. Sterling Holloway has a small role. And of course, there's always The Thin Man.

13. When do you start shopping for Christmas?
Tomorrow. Maybe.

14. Have you ever recycled a Christmas present?
No. Stuff I don't like goes straight to the compost heap that is our local thrift shop.

15. Favorite thing to eat at Christmas?
Sevruga caviar and sour cream on softly scrambled eggs, with a toasted, buttered English muffin and glass of champagne. And that's just breakfast.

16. Clear lights or colored on the tree?
Clear. Our fake tree came with clear ones already on it. Although I prefer a mix of clear and colored. People who think clear lights are more tasteful are fooling themselves. All tree lights are pretending to be candles, and not particularly successfully. And anyway, too much good taste reveals a ludicrous level of insecurity about one's social position.

17. Favorite Christmas song?
"Lo, How a Rose E'er Blooming." (Click for a cheesey midi version.) Michael Praetorius rocks my world.

18. Travel for Christmas or stay home?
Right now, stay home, because I have to sing a midnight mass on Christmas Eve. We'll take off for New England on the 27th. But somewhere down the road, I see travel in my future. When we're done with the whole Santa Claus thing and I'm not chained to the choir stalls, I'd like to go to Vienna. Or London. Or Paris. Or Rome. And let the colorful foreign people run the show for a change.

19. Can you name all of Santa's reindeers?
Yes. I'm a singer. Not only can I name them, but I'll do it (if I've had enough eggnog) by singing the introduction to "Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer."

20. Angel on the tree top or a star?
Star. My children insisted. Before they were around to express an opinion, I used to put a plastic gold model of the Sears Tower on top of the tree.

21. Open the presents Christmas Eve or morning?
Christmas morning. We open our stockings, have breakfast, and then we do presents.

22. Most annoying thing about this time of year?
Worrying about what I'm supposed to be doing. Like baking Christmas cookies. The media applies a lot of pressure, trying to convince me to spend the next three weeks doing nothing but rolling out cooky dough, cutting out cookies, baking them and decorating them. Well, fuck that. I'm 100 percent white bread WASP, and my people were never the cooky bakers. My people like to eat traditional shitty desserts like plum pudding, fruit cake, and mince pies. So when my kids come whining around wanting to bake sugar cookies, I tell them they need to develop some ethnic pride.

23. What I love most about Christmas?
Aside from the religious aspect? I think the decorations. I like the greenery and swags and wreaths and lights that other, more-organized people put on their houses.

Post-renovation Pictures!

It's all over except for the towel racks. And the shower doors. And there isn't any glass in the fronts of the cabinets yet. And the handles aren't installed yet, either. But let's not let these little things ruin a good photo op.

The downstairs bathroom.






And now, my favorite part of the new kitchen. The floor.



Because it's not rotting.

Finally, my daughter's bathroom: